Tag Archives: culture

Football and the Culture of Sport

My relationship with football, or I guess sports in general for that matter, is quite minimal and insignificant in nature, but that doesn’t mean I can’t understand the appeal for billions of others around the world. Both of the readings for this week’s topic opened up some avenues of thought for me that I hadn’t given much attention to prior- the beauty, the ugliness, the glory, the history, the evolution and the commercialization of a sport that seemingly unites the world through a cup every four years (give or take, in cases of global pandemics). Admittedly, my fleeting moments of connection to the sport have essentially consisted of playing for five months when I was six years old, and every so often the glimpse I catch of a game being religiously watched by my dad and brother. Nonetheless, I seem to know enough about the game, its iconic players, and the culture surrounding it to understand the extent to which it arguably dominates the world of sport. 

Sant’Anna in his piece “In the Mouth of the Tunnel”, makes a fascinating comment on how “with videotape football entered into the History of Art… and the goals and the passes became museum pieces” (58). Without thousands of fans lining the stands at games, every moment,  and every play captured and internationally televised, what is modern football? Of course, the sport, at its core, exists simply with a ball and feet to kick it, but it’s interesting to think about how our definition of football has been transformed into something that concocts images of merchandise, sports betting, wealth and celebrity status’. The fact that someone who has never played a game in their life can sport a team jersey or bet their life savings on the outcome of a match is quite telling in itself. 

The commercialization and professionalization of sport is argued to have transformed football into something quite distant from children kicking a ball around on a street, as put forth by Galeano, “when the game stopped being a game and professional soccer required a technocracy to keep people in line” (11). Whether or not football is still a game outside of Galeano’s terms is up for debate, but I do think there is a point to what he is trying to say. Football’s value lies in what the game means to those who watch and those who play it, and the game in itself has undeniably formed the fabric of a much larger, global culture or phenomenon…

My question: Has football changed, or have the ways we view it, follow it and think of it changed? Is the game still the same game, whether it is played casually on a street or professionally in a stadium?

The Communicative Power of Narco-Corridos

I must admit, before reading Shaylih Muehlmann’s chapter “A Narco without a Corrido Doesn’t Exist”, I had not yet heard of narco-corridos or the extensive cultural popularity they have amassed. Of course, although I am somewhat familiar with the history of the War on Drugs, and the nature of cartels, it is fascinating to me how quickly I have dangerously come to associate the word ‘narcos’ with the pictures of glorifying and distorting television series’. I guess this is, in essence, what Muehlmann is trying to convey- the associative power of popular cultural mediums. The way in which songs, movies and television can become vehicles for communicating some sort of uncensored truth, despite the lenses that are worn when writing them or directing them, is undeniable. The power of the role played by narco-corridos seems to lie in their separation from the state, and the transparency with which they can musically reflect a violent reality for the ears that listen to them. 

Muehlmann made a point of being careful not to make a link of causality between the songs and the violence they sing about, but rather to understand the music as representative of “the powerful potential of media circulation” and its ability to “heighten awareness of violence and censorship” (104). What struck me most, due in part to the similarity of my own reaction to Muehlmann’s, was when she described the decapitation in the video her friends played for her to watch. It was fascinating how, what many might perceive to be a desensitization to violence created by these corridos, in many cases, has been quite the opposite- an understanding of it. The awareness her friends had, in this moment, for the violent reality of cartels, painted their engagement with the music earlier on in the chapter as an active act of reflection, rather than passive dismissal. Through watching the video with open, unflinching eyes, it seemed as though they understood that in order to engage with the songs, they had to accept what they were about. Sold in roadside stalls, the circulation of videos capturing similar atrocities performed by cartels further demonstrates the accessible and uncensored nature of these, more informal, means of popular communication.

I found myself swiftly moving to Youtube after this reading, to listen to a few narco-corridos myself. What was fascinating, and a point noted by Muehlmann, was the unified sense of pride and Mexican patriotism the songs seemed to evoke in the comment section. Despite the themes and events the lyrics emerge from, it must be acknowledged there is a universal and undeniable appreciation for something as accessible and culturally binding as music.

Food, Gender and Culture in Rosario Castellanos’ “Cooking Lesson”

The candor, vulnerability, and passionate reflection with which Rosario Castellanos’ “Cooking Lesson” is told was refreshing to read. The story was a compelling window into the mind and thoughts of a ‘housewife’- a role that has trapped, be it willingly or unwillingly, so many women throughout history, and one that transcends culture and place. What struck me throughout this piece was the way the beef cut its way through the narrator’s thoughts, grounding the story in this woman’s reality and simultaneously telling a story of its own. 

It is quite fascinating the role food has and continues to play in our lives and our identities. It both unites cultures and divides people. It is prepared by some and eaten by all. Food brings with it customs, traditions and deeply rooted histories. Through food, the kitchen became a gendered place- both defining and confining the woman in this story to an existence where knowing how to cook should be something of an intuition, and failing to do so with a smile deems her less worthy in her husband’s eyes. 

The evolution of the beef from raw, to seasoned, to juicy, to burned reflects a slow and gradual- though quicker at times- turn from ‘innocent’ and hopeful, to submissive and quiet, identified by this woman as the inescapable consequence of marriage and patriarchal notions of what it is to be a wife. 

Food is symbolic, it represents something about those who prepare it and those who eat it, and Castellanos’ story does just that. As it changes in shape, size and age, the dish the narrator prepares tells a story of herself, and they way she, like the meat, “hasn’t stopped existing” but has rather “undergone a series of metamorphoses” (352). The image such a metaphor concocts is powerful, as the unfiltered thoughts of her mind are trapped in this isolating role. However, as the ending suggests, this does not mean they disappear- her mind is her own, something, unlike the fate of the beef, that doesn’t burn but rather offers her the small, muted freedom of reflection and power of thought.

Of course, culture isn’t limited to food, but as we learned in this week’s lecture, it was etymologically born from it, and continues to play such a foundational role in shaping cultural identity. So I wonder, is food culture or is culture food? Could culture come from food and the notions, identities and customs that come with it, or is food simply produced/considered an element of culture?

Black Orpheus Reflection

The beginning of Black Orpheus, set in Rio de Janeiro, transported me to a world of rhythm, colour, dance and vibrancy. As the woman, whom I presume is Eurydice, finds her way through the city and carnival, the richness of celebration is met with contrastingly ‘ordinary’ or ‘business-as-usual’ goings on as well. From the loud, bustling and expressive parades to empty squares and commuters strolling along sidewalks, it felt like there were two very different Rio de Janeiro’s presented in this opening scene. Observing Eurydice’s journey through the city, as she sets off to meet her cousin, the novelty and ‘foreignness’ of the celebrations evident in her hesitancy sort of reflected my own lack of familiarity with such a collective and immersive cultural experience. Though I have yet to experience the exciting and invigorating experience of carnival in many Latin American countries, I found myself vividly imagining the smells, sounds, and sensations of drum beats pulsing through the air.

As the film introduces Orpheus, a streetcar driver, and his fiance Mira, I quickly did a little digging on the original ancient Greek legend of Orpheus and Eurydice to familiarize myself with the framework of the plot. This, somewhat relevant, diversion had me considering the universality of some stories, and their ability to mold and evolve as different cultures offer their own interpretations. Admittedly, I only watched the first 20 minutes or so of Black Orpheus, but I am curious as to how the story of Orpheus and Eurydice, to put succinctly- a tale of love, loss and grief- changes and takes shape when set in a Brasilian culture and context? I feel as though such an interpretation offers such valuable perspective and cultural insight, and I wonder if anyone knows any other examples of Latin American interpretations of historical/widely-known stories?